


On the Job Training

by rhetoricalrogue



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Complete, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21566731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhetoricalrogue/pseuds/rhetoricalrogue
Summary: Brenna Cousland hadn't known what awaited her at Vigil's Keep, but she didn't expect to be thrown into everything all at once.I did some digging and I found the very first fanfic I did for DA!  This was written in April 2010.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 3





	On the Job Training

“You’re leaving?” Brenna frowned. The first night at Vigil's Keep was not quite going as she had planned, seeing that she'd arrived to a darkspawn assault that now she'd have to pick up the pieces and determine just how they had gotten into her new stronghold in the first place. There were injured to care for and the dead to organize rites for, not to mention seeing to the uninjured survivors and the new companions she'd picked up during the rush to the Keep's rooftops.

She was cold, exhausted, and soaked to the bone. Brenna hadn't even had the chance to catalog her own injuries before shouts from the inner bailey had announced the arrival of the royal entourage. “But you’ve only just arrived.”

"I..." while Alistair may be the King of Ferelden, he disliked displeasing Brenna. The feeling had only intensified after they had married in a whirlwind celebration that combined the end of the Blight, their nuptials, and their subsequent coronations. He tilted his head. "You know I have duties elsewhere."

Brenna glanced back at the small retinue of personal guards that flanked Alistair. “I know, but it really is quite late to be traveling, _especially_ in light of what just happened here. The Keep is secure for now, but who knows if more Darkspawn hordes could be waiting in the shadows in the surrounding areas for an ambush? Traveling by daylight would be a safer option.” She pitched her voice just a tad bit higher, trying to persuade him. So far, it looked as if her efforts were working more on the guards trying to pretend they weren't close enough to hear every word than on the husband. “And it’s _raining_. Could you pick more miserable weather to be traveling in?”

“Brenna, I thought we discussed this in Denerim. Eamon's already putting me on a tight enough schedule as it is. Besides, I’ll be able to feel any darkspawn ambushes. Grey Warden senses, remember?”  
  
She could have argued that Warden senses hadn't helped those stationed in Amaranthine, but instead she pinched her lips into a fine line and tried to stand on legs that wanted to wobble. Brenna didn't know how bad it was yet, but the burning gash on her calf and the trickle of blood into her boot told her that delaying first aid until after the Joining for three potential Wardens would be a bad idea. "Yes, we did, but what sort of an Arlessa lets her king venture out on a night like this?" She leaned into his shoulder, not as hard as she wanted to, but enough to gain some comfort from the heat of his body that seeped through his armor. "What sort of wife would I be if I let you go?"

Alistair sighed and pressed a kiss against the side of her head. He made a move to slightly pull away, but a flash of lightning illuminated her face long enough for him to catch the smallest of pained expressions. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt earlier?” he whispered, his hand moving from her shoulder to slide down her back and gather her closer to him to take what weight he could off the leg he could now see she favored.

The dismissive noise she made threw him back to the Blight, memories of how she'd make the same sort of noises as she blew off any indication she was hurt more than she was with a flippant joke sending alarm bells ringing in his ears. “Oh, _sure_ , and let these people see that their new Warden Commander was a featherweight? I slew the _Archdemon_ , for Andraste’s sake. If they see me crumple up in a little ball after a minor scuffle, think what that’ll do for morale.” She pulled the last weapon out of her persuasive arsenal and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Please, stay with me until morning, that’s all I ask.”  
  
Had he not already made up his mind to stay, the sweet, vulnerable look she threw his way would have made his mind up for him. He knew that he’d never be capable of building up any defense against her green, green eyes.

He tightened his hold on her and nodded over her head to his guard. “A few hours off the road won’t do much damage, I think. And it _is_ raining. Wouldn’t do for the entire Royal Guard to find themselves waist deep and stuck in the mud somewhere, now would it?”  
  
She breathed a sigh of relief and fought the urge to sag against him. “Thank you.”

"Now, can we please go inside and get out of this rain? Any longer out in this and I'm liable to rust."

* * *

  
Less than ten minutes later saw the guards dismissed to nearby rooms and the two of them limping towards the master bedroom. Brenna hadn’t seen it before, and no matter how much she had prepared herself, the prospect of spending the night in the same room that her family’s murderer had slept in was not one she was looking forward to. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth and she found herself frozen in front of the door, a surge of panic causing her hand to hover over the doorknob.

"We can stay in another room," Alistair said quietly at her side. As always, she was grateful for his presence. Once the decision to stay had been made, he had turned to her seneschal and gently asked about any injuries, the kindness in his voice making it easy to shutter any press for orders Varel may have had for her until tomorrow. Alistair also dispatched two of his guards to assist with finding a warm and dry place to set up a makeshift infirmary and gave Varel leave to organize things as he saw fit. While he had been organizing things with a sense of sure authority that Brenna had seen him start to take on since being crowned, she'd been in the process of checking in on her new friends, making the decision to delay their Joining until the next day when they were better rested. Alistair had sidled up beside her and informed her of first aid items he had requested delivered to her bedchambers, his tone still jovial but firm enough that said he had done as much as they could for one day and duties to her people done, it was time to tend to her own welfare.

She took a deep breath. "No." Her fingers tightened on the doorknob, even as she reached for his hand with her free one. "I _need_ to face this." She steeled herself, expecting to find ghosts from the past lingering amid the dark wood and fabrics that Rendon had often favored greeting her.

What she got was something completely different. The walls were stripped bare, faint outlines on the stone the only hint that there had ever been any portraits hanging on the walls. The floor was devoid of any rugs, save one right at the fireplace that looked as if it had been newly purchased. Even the bed looked brand new, the mattress thick and inviting with pillows stacked up at the headboard and blankets stacked at the foot.  
  
“I had hoped to have it better decorated before you arrived,” Alistair explained behind her, his hands on her waist. “Unfortunately, the caravan broke a wheel and shipments have been delayed.” He slid his arms around her and perched his chin on her shoulder. “I was afraid that Howe’s estate might trigger some bad memories for you, so I wanted to give you something completely new that didn’t have his name connected to it.”  
  
Brenna was speechless. She walked out of his embrace and put a hand on one of the bedposts.

“Come on, say something. You know how nervous you make me when you go without talking for long stretches at a time.” Maker, was she _crying_? Alistair had seen the many moods of Brenna Cousland during their adventures together, but for the life of him, he always felt so helpless when she cried. “It’s the color, isn’t it? I knew I should have told them to get the green bedspread instead of the blue!” He felt the wind get momentarily knocked out of him when she launched herself at him, her arms going around his neck.  
  
“You are the most thoughtful, caring man that I have ever met,” she told him, pressing kisses along his jaw before reaching his mouth.  
  
He grinned against her lips. “I have my moments. Now,” he pulled her away and started unbuckling the clasps to her armor. “Let’s get you out of this and into some bandages, shall we? What sort of husband would I be if I let my dear wife bleed all over the brand new bedroom floor?”  
  


* * *

  
Much later, Brenna flexed her bandaged calf, her toes trailing down Alistair’s leg. He hadn’t been satisfied with her assurances that her leg was the only thing hurt, insisting that he look her over for any other injuries himself. She had suffered some minor bruising when she had been thrown to the floor by the force of an emissary’s magical blast, which Alistair had felt compelled to kiss better. Once removed, the indentations that her armor left on her shoulders had also been declared in need of kissing, which led to Alistair finding yet more places her armor left pressure marks on her body, his hands roving over familiar places in such a way that had made her shiver for other reasons besides the cold. That tactic had quickly dissolved into a tug of war between Brenna trying to undo the top portion of his armor without tearing her lips from his and Alistair attempting to kick the lower portion off over his boots.  
  
It was a wonder they had even made it to the bed.  
  
“I’m glad you convinced me to stay,” Alistair told her, one hand holding her palm against his heart, his other hand stroking her hair. “You can’t begin to imagine how much I’m going to miss you.”  
  
She snuggled up closer to him. “Is that why you wanted to make a quick exit?”  
  
He shrugged. “Yes. Well, that and I was afraid that I’d make a scene. It wouldn’t do for everyone to see the king fall to his knees, clutch his Warden Commander’s ankles and go _‘Please, please let me stay and fight darkspawn with you! I don’t want to go to the Bannorn!’_ now, would it?”  
  
She laughed and propped herself up on her elbow. “You know, you _are_ still a Grey Warden, and I _am_ your Commander. I could order you to stay and help me sort this mess out.”  
  
“Oh, and have Eamon do that disappointed head shaking thing he does at me for shirking my kingly duties? I don’t think so.” He reached up and pushed a dark strand of hair behind her ear. “Besides, this whole mess, as you put it, is right up your alley. You _love_ dealing with budgets and the placing of guards and whatnot.”  
  
She couldn’t deny it. While Fergus had always been destined to rule over Highever when their father died, she hadn’t been left out of learning everything that a teyrn would need to know in order to keep a teyrnir running smoothly. Her father had often said that she had taken to her lessons like a duck took to water. “I guess you’re right.” She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Besides, it _is_ kind of fitting that we set up our headquarters here. Ultimately, Amaranthine was supposed to be mine anyway.”  
  
Alistair rolled onto his elbow and looked down at her. “Beg pardon?”  
  
She bit her lip. Fatigue from fighting combined with healing poultices and a post-coital drowsy feeling had left her tongue a little too loose. She could either try to avoid the subject, which she knew that Alistair wouldn’t likely drop – the man was worse than her mabari when it came to sinking his teeth into a subject and not letting it go – or she could tell him the truth. “A long while ago,” she started, turning so she was facing her husband. “My father and Arl Howe had cooked up a contract to join their houses together and it was agreed upon that their children would marry."  
  
“So you were meant to be married to a Howe?”  
  
She shook her head. “Originally, Fergus was supposed to marry Howe’s daughter. But then he had to go and mess everything up by taking a trip to Antiva for one last fling and falling completely head over heels in love with Oriana.” She smiled at the memory. “He couldn’t even wait for a fancy wedding in Ferelden, the two of them eloped while they were still in Antiva." She couldn't help but smile and laugh a little. "You should have seen the look on Mother’s face when he got off the ship and went _‘Surprise! Meet your new daughter-in-law!’_ After that, seeing as Thomas was several years younger than me and Nathaniel several years older, both fathers felt that I would be a good match for either of Rendon's sons. 

  
He reached over and ran his hand down her side, letting it rest at her hip. “How old were you when all this happened?”  
  
“Sixteen.” She could distinctly remember her father’s lecture on duty and family. She could also remember the way that he had sat down and told her that it would be her choice as to which son she married, because he ultimately wanted her to be happy. “I couldn’t stand Thomas. He used to put my braids in ink all the time when we were younger and once gave me a half-eaten box of candy as a birthday gift.”  
  
Alistair swallowed. “And Nathaniel?”  
  
“One year he gave me a book of stories about the Black Fox and used to teach me how to properly wield a dagger and pick locks whenever he visited.”  
  
“Ah. I can see who you picked, then.” He tried not to frown, he really did, but he could feel the beginnings of jealousy stirring in his gut. “Whatever happened to him?”  
  
Brenna shook her head. “I don’t know. The last letter I received from him had been nearly an entire year before…” she frowned and seemed to draw closer to herself. “Before I left Highever with Duncan. Since then, I’ve always wondered if he’d show up again, but the scouts we’ve been sending out from Denerim haven’t had anything to report.”  
  
“Those scouts were supposed to be tracking darkspawn, my love.”  
  
She shrugged again. “And they were. I just asked them to be on the lookout for any rogue Howes that might be wandering around. I thought that it would be prudent, seeing that with his family stripped of everything, he might have the sudden urge to do something daft, say, kill a queen-consort in retaliation for her killing his father.” She blinked and although she was right there pressed skin to skin with him, Alistair felt as if his wife were miles away. “But I know that he wouldn’t do such a thing. Nathaniel was different. I’m certain that he didn’t even know what his father was thinking, let alone be capable of joining Howe in his plans.”  
  
Alistair wasn’t certain if he wanted to know the answer to the next question, but it didn’t stop him from asking it. “You loved him, didn’t you?”  
  
Brenna blinked again, shaking herself back to the present. “Actually, we never really talked much after our betrothal announcement. We were still so young and both of our families agreed to wait until we were older for marriage. Rendon had Nathaniel sent off to the Free Marches soon after and getting letters delivered there and back was always a shot in the dark. He had a dry sense of humor that carried itself over well in written format and a sharp mind for detail. There were many times that I feared I was coming across like a silly ninny of a girl in my replies, but he never said anything of the sort and always answered any questions I might have had.”  
  
“That doesn’t answer my question.”  
  
Brenna sighed. “I think that I believed that I was in love with the _idea_ of him. Alistair, I was _sixteen_. Nearly every girl that age fancies herself in love with someone. I felt that he was handsome, charming, and ever so much worldlier than I was. The idea that I’d be matched with someone like that was enough to make my head spin. But looking back, I have to wonder. In his own way, Nathaniel was always kind. I know that he would have made a good husband, but we’d never actually had romantic feelings toward the other before then. If anything, our marriage would have been a happy one that was based on mutual respect and friendship, but nothing more."

His thumb rubbed against her hip. "What are you thinking of?"  
  
Her brow furrowed. “Thinking back, something has always bothered me. I had wondered just why Rendon had almost insisted that Father allow for Duncan to recruit me, why it was so important for me to leave with Fergus that night. When Father had refused, he'd looked at me with the most apologetic expression I’d ever seen on his face. At the time, I had thought it was because he had seen just how interested I had been in being recruited, but now I have to wonder, was that his way of trying to spare my life? If I had left, he would have been able to attack the castle and then rejoin us at Ostagar, telling us any pretty lie he had thought up to conceal his hand in things and in my grief, I would have believed him, without question.”  
  
Alistair gathered her up in his arms and ran a soothing hand down her back. “I wish I could do something to erase the memories that haunt your face so,” he murmured into her hair.  
  
Brenna looked up at him and placed her hand against his cheek. “Just keep being yourself. You were my touchstone when I could have easily gotten lost in my need for revenge. You reminded me that even though it seemed as if everything had been cast into darkness that there was something good, something bright, that was worth fighting for. I don’t think that I’ve ever truly thanked you for that.”  
  
He hugged her closer to him. “I’d say we’re even on that score. I don’t know how I could have handled Duncan’s death without you.” He bumped his forehead against hers. “Maker, how I’m going to miss you.”  
  
She slid her fingers through the short strands of his hair. “Probably as much as I’m going to miss you. We’ve never been apart before.” She felt that the atmosphere was getting far too heavy. If anything, she didn’t want to spend the last hours that they’d be together for who knew how long to be melancholy. “I’m not going to know what to do without hearing you snore beside me every night.”  
  
He took a breath and grinned down at her. “Oh? Well, I’m not going to know what to do with an entire bed all to myself. I just might have to learn how to sleep in the dead center of the thing.”  
  
“Oh no you don’t. I am not about to have to fight you for my share of the mattress once I get back. Finn will just have to sleep on my side.”  
  
Alistair made a gagging noise. “But that dog’s breath is _horrible_! Besides, he hogs all the blankets. You know how my feet get cold, and if I were to try to steal any covers, I’d likely wind up missing a finger. I like my fingers where they are. ”  
  
She giggled and settled her head on his chest. “I like your fingers where they are, too.”  
  
He smirked and ran his hand down her back. “Really? Because I could put them _lower_ , or,” his smirk turned into a wolfish grin. “I could do this!”  
  
Brenna stifled a shriek and rolled away. She didn’t get very far, seeing that he rolled right along with her. “Alistair! Tickling is not fair!” Her protest would have carried much more weight if she hadn’t been trying to catch her breath from laughing.  
  
“Ah ha! The battle is mine!” Alistair crowed, propping himself on his elbows above her. His eyes darkened when she wrapped her legs around his waist, and suddenly the air around them wasn’t quite so playful any more.  
  
“Tell me,” he murmured, bowing his head to kiss the spot where her neck met her shoulder that never failed to make her tremble. “What are you thinking about?”  
  
“Nathaniel,” she sighed, tilting her head to give Alistair better access.  
  
His eyebrows rose and he lifted himself a little bit further off of her. “For the record, my dear, another man's name is _not_ something a man wants to hear while he’s trying to make love to his wife.”  
  
She laughed and shook her head. “You didn’t let me finish.”  
  
Alistair rolled again so that he was on his back and Brenna was perched atop him. “Then please, continue.”  
  
Brenna ran her hands down his sides, smiling to herself when his breath hitched and his hips arched ever so slightly as she trailed her nails over his stomach. “As I was saying,” she began, her teeth catching her bottom lip when he moved _just so_ against her. “What I was thinking was that while I had _thought_ I had loved Nathaniel back then, I _know_ that I love you. Being with you is everything that I had dreamt of and more.”  
  
“Now _that_ is what a man wants to hear while he’s trying to make love to his wife.” He cupped the back of her neck and gently pulled her down for a kiss that left them breathless. “I love you, Brenna,” he breathed, staring at her as if he were trying to memorize her features.  
  
“And I love you. Always.”  
  


* * *

  
  
The rain hadn’t stopped, but at least it had lessened to a light mist. Unfortunately, the sun hadn’t decided to show up, so the following morning was grey and dreary, which matched Brenna’s mood perfectly. She hadn’t wanted to wake up and had stubbornly held onto what precious time she had left with Alistair before the two of them had dressed and gone downstairs. It only made her feel slightly better that Alistair had felt the same way that she had.  
  
“Are you certain I can’t change your mind?” she asked him as he stood before the keep’s front gates with his personal guard.  
  
“Absolutely. Remember: Eamon. Head shakes of disappointment. Mabari hounds back at the castle who are more than likely chewing my boots to oblivion. Really, things would just fall apart and we’d only have ourselves to blame.”  
  
She sighed. “No harm in me asking, right?” Brenna pushed her shoulders back and took a deep breath. The survivors from the night before were milling about the common grounds. _Begin how you mean to go on_ , her mother had always advised her. Granted, her mother had been talking about how to act once Brenna had been married, but the advice carried over. If the people of Amaranthine – _her_ people, now that she thought about it – saw her as a woman who depended on her husband instead of standing on her own two feet, then she feared that they wouldn’t treat her actions seriously. “I wish you a safe journey into the Bannorn, my king,” she said, her voice carrying over the courtyard.  
  
“And I wish you success in routing out the last of the darkspawn, Commander.” Alistair put aside his kingly voice and leaned in just so Brenna could hear. “If you need anything, anything at all, Denerim is only several days’ ride from here.”  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she told him, matching his tone. “When the other side of the bed gets dreadfully cold at night.”  
  
Alistair opened his mouth, then shut it. “Minx. You said that to scramble my wits, didn’t you? Because it worked, if you were wondering.”  
  
“I’ll not be saying goodbye,” Brenna said, blinking. She hadn’t thought that she would be so emotional at the thought of him leaving.  
  
“Well, if you won’t, then I won’t either.”  
  
“Good. Then it’s decided. No goodbyes.”  
  
He stared down at her before thoughtfully tilting his head to the side. “How about saying I’ll see you later instead?”  
  
At that moment, she didn’t care what the small crowd in the courtyard thought. She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. “That will work. I’ll see you later.”  
  
He bent his head and moved to kiss her, but before he could, Brenna moved her head and his lips touched her cheek instead. “Kiss me and _I’ll_ be the one clinging to your ankles and begging you to stay.”  
  
“Then I guess I’ll just have to save it for when you come back to Denerim.” He gave her shoulders one last squeeze before stepping away. “Good luck, my love.”  
  
And with that, he was gone. Brenna stayed at the gates until the last guard had vanished out of sight. Then she took a deep breath and turned back towards the keep. A soldier was already falling into step with her, pushing several sealed envelopes into Brenna’s hands while explaining to her how there was a prisoner in the dungeons waiting to be seen. Beyond her was yet another soldier who claimed that she feared darkspawn were still trapped in the keep’s cellars, a dwarf was commenting on the shoddy workmanship of the keep’s walls and how much it would cost Brenna to get them up to standards, her seneschal was hinting about how it would be a good idea for her to introduce herself to the nobles of Amaranthine, the new mage Anders was flirting with one of the female guards while Oghren complained how the Joining had given him a hangover, and… was that _Wade_ Brenna heard moaning about the downright primitive conditions he had to endure?  
  
_Begin as you mean to carry on._ Brenna squared her shoulders and stopped walking. At once, everyone grew silent and waited for her to speak.  
  
“Varel,” she said, turning towards her seneschal. “I would like to meet with the nobles once I ensure their safety and get myself situated here at the Keep. Perhaps you could gather them for a small banquet when our halls are a little more presentable?”  
  
“At once, Commander.”  
  
“Private,” Brenna said, looking at the soldier who had been walking next to her. “If you would be so kind as to put these letters on the desk in my study, I will address them later on today.”  
  
“Yes, Commander.”  
  
She then turned her attention to the dwarf who was thumping his knuckles against a nearby wall. “I don’t think I know you, ser.”  
  
“Voldrik, Commander.”  
  
“Voldrik. I’m probably going to regret asking, but how much would it cost to get these walls to your standards?”  
  
“Eighty sovereigns.”  
  
Brenna fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose to try to stem a brimming headache. As far as she knew, she didn’t _have_ eighty sovereigns to spare. “Allow me to speak with Mistress Woolsey to see what the Keep’s finances look like, then I shall personally get back with you.” Voldrik eyed her critically before nodding his approval and walking away.  
  
“I’m not _even_ going to attempt to reason with Wade until I have a stiff drink,” Brenna muttered to herself before pointing at Anders and Oghren. “I hope you two are ready to bust some skulls,” she told them, rolling her shoulders.  
  
“Just say the word,” Oghren replied with a grin, his hand resting on the handle of his axe.  
  
“I’d rather use magic on darkspawn, if it’s the same to you,” Anders said. “Busting skulls is such a…well, _brutal_ way of doing it. I prefer crispifying them from a distance. You don’t get blood on your clothes that way.”  
  
Oghren snorted and elbowed the mage. “Each to their own, I guess. Wouldn’t want you to get your dress all dirty.”  
  
“It’s a _robe_ , and I’ll have you know that they come in handy! _Everyone_ should be wearing them!”  
  
  
Brenna finally gave up and rubbed her forehead. “If the two of you are finished bonding, we have cellars that are in need of clearing out.”  
  
The soldier who had given her letters piped up. “What of the prisoner in the dungeons?”  
  
“One crisis at a time, Private. I’m certain that they’ll still be there once the three of us get back from the cellars.” She didn’t know who this prisoner was, but they could wait until she was good and ready to deal with them. Brenna rolled her shoulders and shook out her arms as the three of them followed Maverlies down to the basement level. Now that she had a mental list of things to do, she didn’t feel as overwhelmed.  
  
She smiled. Alistair had been right. Feeling more confident in herself than she had the night before, she drew her blades and made her way down the cellar steps, her body alert to the darkspawn she sensed below. This _was_ all right up her alley and she _would_ do fine.  
  
She was a Cousland, after all, and Couslands always did their duty.


End file.
